We present this work in honor of the Colombian holiday, Children’s Day.

 

Butterfly, flying by
rich in colour, full of grace
What do you live on up high?
Why do you that rose embrace?

I live off flowers and smells
and off the fountain’s foam,
and from the brilliant sun flare
that clothes me in a coloured robe.

Will you gift me your two wings?
They’re so lovely… Would you please?
Colour to my clothes they’ll bring
if the splendor of your dress I seize.

Little boy, oh, little boy
you who own so many clothes,
why would you wish to employ
the one God gave me and I own?

Why would you need wings
if you don’t fly as I do?
What’s left for me in the winds
if I give my all to you?

Countless joyful days
the Lord sends your way,
but I have just one tomorrow;
please don’t turn it into sorrow.

Do you regale in bringing death?
Would you take a butterfly’s last breath?
Perhaps on a rose nearby
soon my stiff body you’ll find.

The boy heeded fondly
the butterfly’s bitter protest,
and a drop of pure honey
with a sweet wink he offered her.

Flying anxiously she lands
on the boy’s rosy palm
and right there, satisfied,
trembling in delight,
the butterfly breathed its last.

Translation by Sandra Gaviria-Buck